


Orange Soda and Coffee Cola

by WatteauYouDoing



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, High School AU, Other, alphys and undyne are the beta couple in typical shoujo fashion, and definitely doesn't learn any weird secrets, gaster falls in love with a sports star, nnnoooo, super inspired by dokidoki romances, there's no way you're hiding something, this is ridiculous please stop me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatteauYouDoing/pseuds/WatteauYouDoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a horribly embarrassing quirk of fate, you end up meeting star student W. D. Gaster in one of the worst ways possible: by accidentally stealing his math notebook. This leads the man who strives for excellence into a strange relationship with you, the student who strives for nothing, and - beyond that - the circumstances that surround you and your best friend, Undyne.</p><p>He definitely does not fall in love along the way, and neither do you accept that, perhaps, you're allowed to be more than average.</p><p>That would be ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Public Embarrassment Number One

For all intents and purposes, you were an average high-school student. You arrived to school neither particularly early nor particularly late, taking your seat in homeroom about five minutes until the bell, and nothing about your manner was particularly noteworthy, as you - in typical student fashion - chatted your way through the beginning of the day. Your appearance wasn’t particularly striking, at least, not in your view of things, and your uniform was kept well and didn’t defy the expectations set forth for you. There was no subject you did particularly terribly at, and, similarly, there was no subject in which you excelled, and you made it through your days receiving average grades, as you put in only the amount of effort you needed to get by.

You were friendly, but not friends with everyone, and your hobbies and interests were thoroughly mundane. Your only real passions involved sports, and that was because your best friend - Undyne - had latched onto you and your, admittedly above-average height and agility back in middle-school, saying that the two of you were going to be pros together. Being the second-in-command of the basketball team was, admittedly, a small point of fame in your favor, particularly considering how thoroughly you crushed the competition, but you only filled that role due to nepotism, as Undyne had used her charisma (read: volume) to become team captain and bully everyone according to her whims. You were normal. Nothing was strange about you.

In contrast to W. D. Gaster, you thought you were as bland and unnoticeable as porridge.

Everyone knew Gaster, in the way that everyone knew about Mount Everest or the Tower of London. Famously intelligent and a model student, Gaster topped the charts for academic excellence and lead the enigmatic science club which had, earlier in the year, blown up the chemistry room in one of the most memorable Homecoming weeks to date. He was, despite his fame, an aloof boy - one who kept to himself beyond his club dealings and his longstanding friendship with the robotics team captain, Alphys. You - being thoroughly average and averagely friendly - hadn’t spoken to him beyond the usual pleasantries and wouldn’t even call yourself his acquaintance, much less his friend.

So, any meeting that deviated from the norm of hello, how are you was something of note - and, naturally, the first such encounter occurred in the school library.

You had a brief, fifteen minute gap in between the end of class and your scheduled training session with Undyne, and you decided to sprint to the library to pick up some light reading. Knowing that you'd be suplexed into hell if you dared to be tardy, you'd scoped out your options during lunch, and, knowing exactly what you were looking for, arrived at the check-out desk with seven minutes to spare.

“Riddles from the Exeter Book,” the librarian - named, amusingly enough, Sarah Brown, despite having particularly light blonde hair and particularly intense green eyes - read off, flipping through the pages idly. “Still on your medieval kick?”

“Er, I mean…” You looked away awkwardly, and it was then that you noticed him behind you, sprawled out over the table and fast asleep.

For once, Gaster wasn't in perfect order. He looked so small, so peaceful, with his head tucked into the crook of his elbow and his blazer in slight disarray. The afternoon light draped across him, giving the scene a soft, dreamlike quality, and he was nothing like the fierce, intense boy that sat across the room from you in class. He was… cute. Gentle.

And his stuff had spilled out of his backpack and everywhere onto the floor.

You trailed off mid-sentence, looking to Mrs. Brown as if she could, somehow, explain on the strange situation before you.

“Must have been a dull book,” she failed to elaborate, shrugging idly and then checking out your own pick. “Bring this back by December 1st, okay?”

“Okay. Er - ” you glanced at Gaster again, but then you decided to leave him be. “You wouldn't… happen to have a copy of the Golden Legend, would you?”

Her eyebrow climbed up into her hairline. “Voragine? No, but the city library might. Which reminds me… Stay here; there’s something for you in the back.” She gestured at you vaguely, and gave you no option for disobedience.

“Wh -- uh, okay.” You watched her enter the backroom, and heard the sounds of boxes being shifted and hoisted about. The solitude quickly made you aware of time’s unstoppable crawl, and you fidgeted, drumming your fingertips on the desk as your attention strayed, for a third time, to Gaster.

Or more particularly, all of his fallen stuff. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so…Why not tidy up?

You walked over, kneeling down and gathering his notebooks up into a neat stack. Gaster’s school supplies not only met your expectations; they exceeded them by leaps and bounds. Everything gave off an aura of neatness, of tidiness, of flawless perfection, from the crisp, carefully unbent paper to the color-coded tabs sticking out from the top carefully delineating the chapters and other points of interest.

They were practically works of art, honestly, and - as you finished arranging them neatly in his backpack - you couldn’t help but linger on one, opening it and flipping through.

His handwriting was perfect. Lines upon lines of calculus fanned out before you, with pristinely notated and colored definitions. It, honestly, made you ashamed of the haphazard scrawl that filled your own books, and you stared down at the pages with a strange mix of bleak fascination.

It was then that you heard a quiet cough and the sound of moving fabric.

 

Your eyes darted to him as he slowly picked himself up, blinking blearily in the afternoon light. He looked absolutely exhausted, and the more matronly part of your personality wanted to scoop him up in a pile of blankets and put him directly to bed (which you could probably do, actually, sure he was tall, but you and Undyne regularly lifted huge stacks of bricks for giggles.) Something about the way he moved made you unable to look away, as if you were seeing a rare animal in its natural habitat. Gaster always sat so rigidly in class, like a stoic tree that held up to the wind until the day it eventually cracked, toppling over and ruining a few houses on the way.

But this… The way he moved now, slow and sleepy and rubbing idly at his eyes, was so natural, so tender, that it totally ruined your earlier perceptions of him. Or, perhaps it would be better to say…

Your mental image of him was deepened beyond repair.

In a singular instant, the atmosphere was ruined as he finally looked at you and - seeing you standing there with his open notebook in your hand - hardened his gaze into a perplexed squint.

“...What are you doing?” He asked carefully, and - rendered completely dumb by the awkwardness of the situation - you did the only thing you could possibly think to do.

In a perfectly normal display of the fight-or-flight reflex, you ran.

It’s hard to say how things would have been different if you hadn’t so thoroughly embarrassed yourself in front of him. They might not have changed at all, actually, perhaps you’d have just explained yourself like the reasonable, rational, normal person, and Gaster, like a fellow rational person, would have accepted it, thanked you, and continued never spoken to you again.

And maybe things wouldn’t have changed if you had, by some accident not stolen his notebook as you absconded hurriedly from the library.

But you did.

You totally stole his notebook, and in the most suspicious circumstances imaginable, you ran from him in a panicked flurry.

Maybe you’d have stopped if he’d called after you, but he couldn’t, so startled was he by the sheer bizarreness of what he had just witnessed. The door slammed shut behind you, and he stared at it, an expression of baffled shock on his features as the room returned to a dozey, gentle quiet.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Mrs. Brown asked, lounging against the counter like she’d existed there her entire life. An amused smirk lingered on her vaguely vulpine features, her naturally terrible nature as persistent and unwelcome as the smell remaining on a chain-smoker’s couch cushions. Gaster gave her a long-suffering look, and then sat bolt upright, looking from his backpack to the clock over his head.

“Wh - Is that really the time? Why didn’t you wake me? I’ve missed class!” He spoke in a voice that was typically reserved for discussions of one’s own execution, and Mrs. Brown let out a peal of thoroughly abysmal laughter.

“I’m sure you’ll manage, and, besides, you shouldn’t worry about what’s already done, particularly since Athena’s left hand has made off with one of your books.”

“Uh - ...what? Athena’s left hand?”

Mrs. Brown had the air about her of a woman who was the only one in on a private joke. “Oh, never mind that. You intend to find them and retrieve it, I trust?”

"Of course that's my intent! There's a test in a few days, and I need my notes to pass!"

“No you don’t; you’ll ace it regardless. Anyway.” Mrs. Brown held out a book to him, waving it vaguely in the air. “When you find them, give them this for me.”

Gaster sent her a thoroughly put-upon look, but the pair - despite initial appearances - were friends, and so he stood, walking over to the counter and taking the leather bound volume between his hands. “The Hours of Marie de Medici…” he read off, studying the shiny gold title embossed on the spine. “What’s this?”

“I had it sent to us on special request. It’s an illustrated manuscript - do you know what those are?”

“I’ve heard of them, certainly, but… why does - “ he squinted, suddenly realizing he was unable to recall your name. Not wanting to let on, he quickly switched gears. "Why would they want this?"

Mrs. Brown looked up at him with a perfectly flat look. “Well, dear, what do you do with books?”

“...And you're telling me that they're going to read something in  _latin?_ ” He punctuated this by half-turning his body, indicating the page with a flick of his boney fingers. “Though, I guess the pictures are pretty."

The librarian only gave him a coy smile in response, shooing him on with her hand.

He closed the book gently, bowing to her before returning to the table to collect his backpack. “Fine, I’ll make sure they get it. I do owe you for all the kindnesses you've shown me.”

Mrs. Brown called after him in a sing-song voice. “Oh, don’t put it like that. To maintain a cordial relationship, both parties involved must routinely take advantage of the other’s generosity. That’s how friendship works!”

“I’d rather call it debt than something so terrible!” was Gaster’s reply, and he endeavored to escape before the enigmatic librarian could make fun of him any further. He had a mission, after all, one he was, truthfully, too preoccupied to think too deeply about. But he'd treat it seriously and with care, like he always would - and perhaps Mrs. Sarah Brown knew that, and perhaps why, as she heard the door close softly behind him, she smirked to herself in disgustingly ill-contained glee.

The only thing that the librarian of the Dame Hearts Preparatory School liked more than  _books_ were her own private plots, and she was certain she'd just cooked up a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who reads my other works: I'm so sorry!! I've been in a huge writing funk where I think everything I write is trash - I'm not even happy with this! - which has... contributed heavily to the delays in my update schedule. I'm trying to get over it, and this is me trying to take a step in the direction of at least writing something. I can be less anxious about writing a looser, lighter plot that I care a lot less about.
> 
> ...Also I've been binge watching a lot of shoujo romance lately. Speaking of, does anyone have any recommendations? Are there any shoujo tropes you really like? Are there any you HATE? I'd love to see some discussion in the comments.


	2. The Search, and All of its Resulting Implications

Gaster’s quest to find you was all well and good, except for one little smidgen of a detail: it was _awfully hard_ for him to track down someone who’s name he didn’t even know.

At first, he tried just looking for you, peering into open classrooms and meandering around campus hoping that he’d catch sight of your retreating form. Unfortunately, his efforts practically defined the concept of a fool’s errand, as not only did he not know if you were still around, but even if you were, he didn’t know where to _begin_ looking.

Gaster possessed a keenly honed obliviousness regarding his classmates’ affairs, meaning that, unfortunately, he was entirely ignorant about you and your hobbies. While he could just wait until your shared biology lab to confront you, he had calculus _before_ that, and the thought of not being able to turn in his homework on time chafed him mightily. He just wanted his notebook back! Was that really too much to ask?

Why had you _stolen_ it?

Ugh!

Huffing a bit, Gaster trudged down the hallway, hands in his pockets as if that would somehow protect him from his doom. He didn’t have anyone he could turn to for aid, not at this hour, and despite all the thinking he’d done, he could only come up with one immediate solution to his problem.

He would have to ask random strangers about you.

Gaster didn’t consider himself _shy_ but, in this situation, he was a Perseus who had been unable to muster up a mirrored shield of protection - that is, an actual _lead_ \- and was subsequently left vulnerable to the piercing, judgmental gazes of his classmates...

… and each encounter petrified him, turning his mind to stone.

“Haven’t seen anybody run by here... but we’ve had the door closed, I guess we could have missed it.”

“Sorry, I’m not really sure who you’re talking about.”

“Um… do I know you?”

Of course no one could help him considering all he had to go on was a half-remembered description of you. But as much as he thought the matter over - as much as he agonized over it! - he could recall neither your habits nor your social involvements… at least, not until he wandered by the art club, whereupon he received a sudden flash of miraculous insight.

“Excuse me,” he called out, peeking his head into the studio. It was a meekly spoken phrase, so exhausted was he by confronting strangers, and most of the room either remained oblivious to it or outright ignored him in favour of their canvases and their sketchbooks. One boy, however, took note, a look of perplexed friendliness complimenting the creamy, soft whiteness of his fur, and he broke away from his work to approach the door.

“Oh, howdy! Do you need something?”

Gaster, confronted with that, could only press onward. “Do you… happen to know anyone on the basketball team?”

His goat-like features lit up in a bizarrely exuberant smile, and the volume of his voice kicked up a few notches, enough that others took notice and looked over at the conversation curiously. “Oh, you bet! I love their games; I go to all of them! Who are you looking for?”

“Um. Well.” Gaster took a breath, then - as he had with everyone else - began to describe you to him. He’d only gotten to the peculiar color of your eyes when the boy held up his hand, his eyes sparkling with uncontainable delight.

“Of course I know who you mean - you’re talking about Aegis!”

“...E-Excuse me?” Gaster stuttered, looking down at him. His first thought was, well, maybe their parents had dipped their toes into the wonderful world of monster naming conventions, but it still took him aback, and he stared down in dull incomprehension. “That’s really their name?”

The boy rubbed the back of his head and laughed. Gaster could see more marks of the art-club on him, now - little bits of red and blue dotting his paws, a number of colored pencils tucked into his apron, and a cute little dollop of yellow paint splashed directly on his nose. “Naw, though that’s what everyone calls them, these days, after Chara and Frisk wrote that story in their magazine. Aegis and Atrytone, the shield and the spear of Dame Hearts Academy! Sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

He smiled, and Gaster’s expression only turned more quizzical. “I’m… afraid I don’t follow. These are nicknames?”

“Yeah!” His upbeat conversation partner grinned, holding up his finger in a cute gesture probably lifted from some comic or cartoon. “Their speciality is basketball, but Aegis and - uhh, honestly, Atrytone didn’t stick like Aegis did, most people call her Undyne unless she’s on the field - are top-class sports heroes! They can do anything - kick, run, jump... punch through walls, even! Aegis plays defense, Atrytone plays offense, and together they’re unstoppable!”

“I… see,” he replied mildly, because what else could he do in this ridiculous situation? In a perfect world, he could stay forever and pick the boy’s brain for more information but alas, he’d already wasted quite a lot of time at school, and he knew he was needed at home. “You wouldn’t know where I could find them, would you?”

“Oh, um… I haven’t seen them today…” The boy turned, thinking the matter over with serious diligence. “But I know they have homeroom with Mrs. Bauer every morning. It’s on the first floor, room 1105 - does that help?”

It did, actually, and Gaster breathed out a thick, relieved sigh. He could confront them in the morning and easily have his notebook back before second period. Yes. Things were working out. He could do this and put the entire silly matter behind him.

And, of course, give them their weird book while he was at it.

“Yes, thank you. You’ve aided me considerably.”

“No problem!” The sentence was accompanied by another huge grin, and then, suddenly, he proffered out his hand. “I’m Asriel, by the way! One of the literary magazine’s ~dignified illustrators.~ Pleased to meet you!”

Gaster couldn’t help but laugh in soft appreciation at the pride with which he spoke, and he took Asriel’s hand, giving it a polite shake. “I’m Gaster. W. D. Gaster. Really, thank you for your help. I appreciate it.”

Once more, Asriel’s expression turned star-struck. “W. D. Gaster? Aren’t you, like, going to go to _Harvard_?”

“Ah.” A quiet cough. “It’s - that’s a goal of mine, yes. We’ll see if my hopes come to fruition.”

“Well, good luck!” Asriel gave him a toothy grin before settling his hands on his hips, canting his head as he looked up. “Why are you looking for Aegis, anyway? Is something up?”

“Ah - no.” Gaster only grew more awkward, not really sure how to play this off. He wasn’t cruel enough to tell the truth, particularly not to this boy who _clearly_ admired you, so - he simply… curated the facts, as he was wont to do, and showed Asriel the volume Mrs. Brown had given him. “I have something for them.”

Asriel looked at the book, then at Gaster, then at the book again - and Gaster really wasn’t sure what to make of the resulting smile and knowing look. “Oh, well. Good luck!”

“...Ah, thank you?” Gaster half-asked, not really sure what he needed luck for, but he didn’t want to dally, so he tucked the manuscript underneath his arm and bowed. “I should be going. Good luck with your endeavors, Asriel. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He turned to leave, then, but paused, claimed by some residual curiosity. “You mentioned a literary magazine that had a story in it about Aegis, yes? Would you have a copy on hand?”

Asriel looked back, his paw pressed against the doorway. “Oh! Um, we published that at the beginning of the year… I might have one around if I look…?”

“Ah! No, no,” Gaster waved his hand hurriedly, not really wanting to be held up further. “I won’t trouble you. I’m sure I can find it somewhere.”

Giving this a brief moment of contemplation, Asriel nodded and turned fully back to Gaster. “If you go to the office next to the library on Friday, we can definitely get you a copy! That’s where the literary magazine’s staff meets every week.”

Gaster blinked, and then noted this in his mental itinerary. He wasn’t sure why he was curious, but it wouldn’t take much effort to swing by for a few minutes after school, would it? “Thank you, again - ah, I sound like a bit of a broken record, don’t I? I’ll leave you to it.”

“Bye-bye!” Asriel waved as he left, smiling after the man as he click-clacked down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight, Asriel whipped out his phone with an absolutely dreamy grin, quickly typing in a message to the other two members of his cotiere.

That was, at the heart of it, where the misunderstanding happened - with a young boy’s fervent texts, and a room full of curious art students approaching him, whose romantic hearts often clouded their own good sense.

D. Gaster was looking for _you_ , of all people, wasn’t that exciting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a lot of nice anime suggestions last time, thank you! It's actually pretty fun talking to people in the comments, so I'll pose the question to you - do you like vocaloid? I've been a fan for around eight years now; I'm a bit obsessed! I'd love to listen to your favorite songs. I haven't really broken into Underloid though... does anyone have any recommendations?
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5uq_xmfNyLVnUPm_0gvBiHiK8WB8Aar-
> 
> Here's my playlist! It's not everything I like/listen to, but it's got a lot of my favorites.


	3. Gaster Should Probably Have Some Orchestral Accompaniment

You, at the moment, felt a spiritual kinship to jams, jellies, and other forms of preserved fruit spread. Exhaustion lingered in your bones, a sore fire blazed across your muscles, and your pureed soul rendered you completely incapable of complex thought. You had been shoved into a tiny glass jar from which there was no escape, and you could now only contemplate your eventual fate as being a compliment to someone’s breakfast spread.

It’d been your own fault, so embarrassed were you at your - could you really even call it a faux pas? It went above and beyond such a succinct phrase, becoming more akin to an ungodly trainwreck that caused millions of dollars of property damage and forever ruined a railway’s reputation. Perhaps - being generous to you - it should be called an incident, and that incident spurred you - as soon as you saw her waiting for you on the track - to pounce on Undyne and say, oh, yes, the both of us should definitely go have a hardcore training session with your mother. Definitely. We need that for success.

Undyne was ecstatic to see you so eager about something, and so the both of you went to her house to bask in the glow of Nyx’s tutelage.

You were never quite sure if you wanted Nyx to be your mother or if you just wanted to be her. Not only was she a terrifyingly intelligent businesswoman who crushed the competition under her pristinely polished leather shoes, but she could actually literally crush the competition, and the city newspaper once ran a story about her demolishing the desk of a wayward employee with nothing but her fists and sheer, burning rage. And - even beyond her remarkable canniness and brutal strength - she had a fascination with the arts, and her skill with the violin was considerable. Listening to her, you thought you knew what it was like to hear strings sing, and you could do nothing but admire her many, many talents.

With a personality like that, it only made sense that Nyx accepted nothing less than complete excellence, so while training with her was extremely fruitful, it also completely destroyed your will to live.

“It huuurts, Undyne,” you whined, oozing out over your desk and mashing your cheek onto its shiny, smooth surface. A groan of agreement emanated from her similarly prone form, and you peeked open one eye so you could get a look at her. Honestly, appearance wise, she was in a sorrier state than you, having not had the time this morning to brush her long volumes of bright-red hair. Seeing her looking like a rowdy, bedraggled child made you so nostalgic that you found some reservoir of energy within yourself and beckoned her over.

“Eh? What’s up?” She gave you a dubious scowl, peering at you from across the (admittedly short) distance between your desks. No one fought Undyne when she wanted to sit anywhere, and she’d been sitting next to you since middle school.

You scooted your chair so you were facing Undyne’s back. “I’m going to fix your hair. Hold still.”

“What, really? We’re sixteen. Aren’t we a bit old for that?”

“Never!” you grinned, which totally ruined the scandalized tone in your voice. You always kept a brush in your backpack for hair emergencies, and you unzipped the front pocket, rustling among your things for a moment before drawing it out like King Arthur’s sword. Undyne fidgeted as you cleaned it. Though she was capable of sitting still, once it was overtly asked of her, she couldn’t help but dwell on every second she had to spend not moving.

“Ready?” You asked, reaching for the tie that kept her messy ponytail up.

“Ready, though you really don’t have to.”

“Oh, come now, Atrytone,” you teased, carefully beginning to work. “Don’t you want to look your best for your adoring fans?”

She snorted, staring straight ahead since she was unable to look at you. No one had come to speak to you, yet - though, honestly, homeroom was always pretty relaxing. Everyone was too tired to gush over how amazing Undyne was, and most of the people you chatted with regularly were too busy trying to finish neglected assignments before the bell. “Don’t you mean our adoring fans, _Aegis?”_

“Pft!” You laughed a bit, beginning to pick out the tangles from Undyne’s luxurious stream of… honestly, calling it red was a bit of an injustice. There had to be a better word for it. Crimson? Carnelian? Oh, maybe carmine, and Undyne would love that the color was derived from blood. Bugs’ blood, sure, but you doubted it’d make a difference.

Regardless, it was such a pretty color! You’d always been kind of jealous, though ultimately you were proud, as you’d been helping Undyne care for it since you were young. (Undyne had always so patiently let you play hairdresser.) “They’re only mine by extension.”

She made a huge farting noise with her mouth. “Dude, you had a huge fan-club in eighth grade. How do you not remember that?”

You made an awkward little _ahem_ noise. “And I left that all behind in eighth grade! Really, people only call me that because of that silly story, and it was only written because of you.”

“Uh-huh.” Her voice had an audible squint to it, but she let it be - it was far too early in the morning for serious, introspective conversations about the nature of fame, nor was she in the mood for critiquing your life choices. And - further - your conversation was interrupted by the door opening and a certain familiar someone stepping through.

“Ow!” Undyne hissed, hands shooting to the back of her head as you accidentally pulled on her hair. “What’s up?”

You stared at Gaster as he paused in the doorway, sweeping his gaze about the assorted seats before it stopped, settling on you. Calm, cool, and collected, he radiated presence, and his intense gaze gave him a serious, sharp look, of someone thought with deep, unconquerable thoroughness.

It’s hard to say what you’d been thinking since, honestly, Nyx’s training yesterday had completely distracted you from your eventual confrontation with him. You’d slept like the dead, probably because you were dead, your emotions stripped away by the dark necromancy that piloted your flesh-sack, and in the morning you’d been goofing off with Undyne too much to really worry about it.

But now, you couldn’t do anything but think about it, as everything came together like a converging series of film strips all showing pictures of your inevitable destruction.

Click. Click. Some people were looking now, watching as he approached you and Undyne with steady, even steps. She seemed to realize what was going on - she was your best friend, of course you’d admitted to her your shame! - and she shifted, looking between you sitting there, struck dumb, and the man striding forth to bring about your doom.

Being a true friend, she laughed behind her hand and moved so Gaster had a direct line too you. Now you knew how Caesar felt!

He settled into stillness, looming over your desk like an angel sent from hell to judge you for your sins. He looked so professional, with a book tucked underneath his arm and shoes so lovingly polished that they shone, and you were, frankly, so intimidated that you squirmed in your seat. How were you going to explain yourself to him? How could you possibly justify the fact that you’d mentally shut down and fled from him in an idiotic panic?

How were you going to explain stealing his notebook?

You couldn’t, really, it’d just been an example of you completely breaking your character. In a single instant - like shattering porcelain or splintering wood - you’d revealed that, yep, you were actually just an impulsive moron. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just say that! You had to preserve your reputation at all costs. You couldn’t act strange.

What was he going to say?

How was he going to rip you to shreds?

He stared down at you blandly and, as the seconds ticked by, you grew more and more anxious, every muscle tensing as sweat prickled on the back of your neck. Ah! You were going to faint! This was too much; why wasn’t he saying anything?

Did he want you to explode from anxiety?

You felt everybody’s eyes on you - okay, well, more like Undyne and Shyren, who sat in front of you and meekly peeked at you from behind her hair. And Gaster, of course, who stared at you before becoming impatient and asking, “Are you going to give it back?”

“Uh,” you managed, much like it was an error message from an executable's faulty launch. “What?”

“My notebook.” Each word was perfectly, pristinely enunciated, and a bead of sweat trickled down your forehead. You were dead. You were too dead for this!

With a slight squeak of her chair, Undyne leaned over, cupping her hand over her mouth and whispering, “Hey, Blue. Your bag. It’s in your bag.”

Right! You jumped, a shiver going up your entire body, and you ducked underneath your desk, unzipping your backpack with a quick arc of your hand. Plastic rustled as you forced the demure black fabric open, and you eased a thin, plastic covered rectangle out from the dark abyss of your bag. Forcing some pep into your voice, you offered it to him with a cheerful, “Here you go!”

His brow raised, and he gingerly took the object from you. The plastic bag crinkled under his fingertips as he examined it, and - with a vague look of fear - he carefully opened it to reveal…

His notebook, in perfect condition.

“Why did you put it in a bag?” he asked, unable to contain himself, and you stared at him, not really… getting it for a moment.

“...To keep it from getting messed up?” you offered, like it should be obvious.

This only baffled Gaster more, because at this point, he was trying to get some mental picture of you and failing at every turn. In class, you'd never seemed bombastic. In fact, he'd previously never paid you any mind because you'd appeared so thoroughly… normal. You weren't too loud, but neither did you seem Alphys-esque in your quiet. You were in an advanced biology class, but, as far as he knew, you were doing… okay, staying firmly in the middle of the bell curve of achievement. You didn’t share many of his other classes, which suggested you had a far less rigorous schedule than him, though he thought he remembered hearing you talk about a higher level literature course, which -... oh. Maybe that explained the odd book he was supposed to give you?

Regardless. It seemed a contradiction that you’d go to such considerate lengths to preserve an item when you’d done something so thoughtless as taken it in the first place.

Thinking back, it was difficult to imagine the muted, well-behaved student he knew acting like you had, so… perhaps that was just… an irregular data point? Maybe you’d just undergone a bout of temporary insanity which had lead to you accidentally making off with his book.

Right.

That was it.

Everything made sense, and he could still preserve his image of you as a completely average person with no strange qualities whatsoever. “Thank you. I appreciate it. By the way - Mrs. Brown asked me to give you this.”

Casually, he held out the illustrated manuscript, offering it to you in place of his notebook. Yes. You probably wanted this for a project for your literature class, and you were, in fact, completely normal--

Gaster paused at your expression of shocked delight, taking in at that little gasp and the way your mouth crinkled up into a smile as you carefully settled the volume onto your desk. You opened it with a delicate hand, revealing page after page of finely detailed illustrations, and there was no way to mistake you for anything but genuinely, passionately fascinated. You stared down at them, those pictures and the ornate latin text they accompanied, and he saw your mouth move along as you gingerly picked through it.

 

Undyne had - before this - been entirely content to witness you die in your seat, but now she was curious and properly scooted over to take a look. “Woah, that’s fancy. What’s it say?”

“Well, this is ‘domine’,” you pointed it out to her, running your fingertip underneath the word. “Which means lord - in this case, it’s referring to God, because, like, of course it is, this is a medieval prayer book. Exaudi is a conjugation of exaudio, which means hear - that’s where we get audio from. Orationem is a noun, it describes someone who’s praying, meam is my - so this bit says ‘Lord, hear my prayer’, and - “

Undyne listened patiently, as she always did when you jabbered about this kind of thing - because, really, she was the only one you could do it to as it wasn’t an aspect of your character you really liked others knowing about. But there Gaster was, still hovering over you with a strangely difficult expression on his face, and you realized, shoot, he was still there, why was he -

Oh.

Oh!

Not only had you not thanked him, you hadn’t even apologized for having stolen his book!

Your initial response was to just blather out an apology, but you realized that the peculiarity of Gaster’s presence had drawn some notice. Being watched by others made you keenly more aware of your behavior, particularly since you had a reputation to maintain... didn’t you?

You were average. You were an average student. You didn’t act strangely, you weren’t given to large displays of emotion, and you were, most of all, composed, because normal people didn’t babble out their thoughts, nor did they get anxious, nor go on long, passionate tirades about language and linguistics.

Undyne was the passionate one. You were the reserved one. And that was how it was going to stay.

Having gotten a tighter handle on your behavior, you smiled up at him, easing the book in front of you closed. “Thank you for giving me this; I appreciate it. I’m sorry that I took your book; I’d forgotten I was holding onto it.”

See? There. Easy.

It was easy to pretend, and if you went along like that, being average, everything would be fine. Why couldn’t you just have done that in the first place?

“It’s fine. Thanks for giving it back.” Gaster stared down at you, that vaguely troubled look not fading. He opened his mouth to say something, but he clearly changed his mind, as he shook his head and turned to leave. “I should get back to my own class.”

“Alright. Have a good day,” you replied, bidding him a polite farewell and keeping that mild, average smile on your face. He left, walking down the aisle of desks with neat steps and impeccable poise, and you watched him go before turning your gaze down.

Next to you, Undyne sighed.

“It’s always creepy when you do that,” she murmured, frustration creasing her brow, and you picked up the brush again, shifting to resume your earlier work. Perhaps you were appealing to her sense of nostalgia, to show her that things hadn’t really changed, or… perhaps you just wanted something to take your mind off of…

Well. Everything.

“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.”

Undyne grumbled, but she didn’t fight you. There was no point, and the two of you sat mostly in silence until the bell demanded you stop your work and let Undyne lift her hair into its ponytail once more. It flowed down her back neater now, which made you far happier to see.

You’d always been so proud of Undyne, and - in such a small way - making a difference in her appearance brought you joy.

“Alright, everyone!” Mrs. Bauer shooed you all out, finally looking up from whatever was capturing her attention on her computer. “Have a good day, don’t set the school on fire, etcetera. If you want to go to the zoo with the wildlife club, come talk to me by Friday, okay?”

“You ready, hotshot?” Undyne asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and you stood alongside her with a smile. You hadn’t put Mrs. Brown’s gift in your bag, yet - you still wanted to hold the stately volume, and Undyne laughed as she saw you clutching it to your chest. “You’re a huge nerd. Like. Giant ‘I’m going to stuff you in a trash can and roll you down a hill’ nerd.”

“...That actually sounds like something you’d enjoy having done to you.”

Undyne thought it over, and you realize you had made a horrible, horrible mistake, because her face lit up in a grin.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you prepared yourself for another day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably getting a better idea of the premise now!
> 
> Let's talk about hobbies! Does anyone have any hobbies that are kind of strange? I really like ball jointed dolls and I take pictures of them. I also collect weird, old medical textbooks...


	4. On the Art of Poaching Seats

Gaster could not stop thinking about you.

It was a highly frustrating state of affairs. He  _ should _ be focusing on his classes, internalizing every concept, definition, and equation that crossed the blackboard as, at the beginning of the year, he’d decided to undertake the most rigorous course load he could concoct. Gaster was a boy who took school seriously. He  _ had  _ to, and because of this, there was absolutely no room in his schedule for distraction.

He knew all that, and yet he still couldn’t help it. Something about you bothered him  _ so much,  _ and he couldn’t bring himself to let it go.

That morning, you’d looked so… excited, and then you’d clamped down on your joy with the ugly sharpness of a bear trap. Why had you done that? Why had you killed your happiness in the middle of its bloom? Why had you been ashamed of something so, well… 

Interesting?

Because it  _ was _ interesting. He’d never guessed that you possessed such hidden depths, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what else might be kept locked inside your heart. Was it just latin, or did you know other languages too? Did you read lots of old books, or was that a recently acquired interest? What did you like, what did you dislike? What did you want to do, what did you want to be?

What sort of person were you, really? Why weren’t you proud to be you?

“I just don’t get it,” Gaster grumbled, shifting the stack of textbooks in his arms. Though Gaster was well-organized and understood how to use a locker, Alphys was a chronic, scattered mess, and he’d taken to helping her carry her overabundance of books from class to class. (Seriously, did she really need to bring all this manga to school?)

“You’ve, uh. Mentioned.” Alphys looked up at him quizzically, adjusting the huge glasses on the bridge of her chubby little snout. “Are, um…. what are you going to do?”

Though Alphys and Gaster were the fastest of friends, their temperaments stood in stark contrast to each other. Sure, both Alphys and Gaster possessed anxious personalities, but Alphys wilted under responsibility, while Gaster flourished. Unless Gaster had control, he felt uncomfortable - so, naturally, Alphys assumed that he was going to find a way to own the situation.

“I intend to follow up on a rumor I heard and, once I have more information…” He paused, idly tapping a bony fingertip on the trite magical girl comic that served as Alphys’ latest artistic inspiration. “I’ll decide from there how to confront them.”

“Confront them?” Alphys squeaked, and it was good that Gaster was holding all of her books because, if he wasn’t, she certainly would have spilled them all on the ground. Even the mere thought of doing something so bold filled her with a nauseous sense of dread.

“Well, yes.” Gaster held the door to the second floor stairwell open with his shoulder, following after his companion once she’d safely passed through. “I’ve always agreed with your assessment that enduring aimless conversation is, quite possibly, the most terrifying thing in the world, but interrogations are an entirely different matter. There’s structure to an interrogation; there’s  _ purpose.  _ You have a goal, and you prepare questions and evidence to help you seek the information you need. It’s so much better than meaningless pleasantries.”

Gaster was an obviously self-satisfied man and, for not the first time, Alphys found her friend’s manner intimidatingly cold. She decided to ignore it, and instead bring up a point of curiousity.

“Is, er...” She coughed. “There any particular reason why you’re, um.”

Gaster looked down at her, and she balked.

“What is it?”

“N-Nothing!” Alphys quickly waved it off, because she knew her thoughts were stupid and her opinions were unimportant. What had she been thinking, questioning  _ Gaster  _ of all people? The nerve! She really needed to learn to keep her dumb mouth closed.

Gaster, however, couldn’t tolerate that insidious way of thinking, and he pressed her about her actual feelings. “Really, Alphys, what’s troubling you?”

“Ah! Um. Well. I… I was just wondering… why, exactly, you’re so… bothered? You’re kind of… I mean…”

Alphys didn’t want to say  _ obsessed,  _ but Gaster had been ranting about you the entire day, so the unsaid word couldn’t help but hang awkwardly in the air like an unfortunately dressed guest.

“...I don’t really know,” Gaster admittedly quietly, shifting his grip on the books so he could open the next door for her. A flood of students surged down the hall, and the pair patiently waited for an opening. “Maybe I just want to understand why anyone would be ashamed of their interests. It’s hard for me to imagine.”

Alphys couldn’t help herself. “W-what, I’m not a good enough case study for you?”

“Alphys, my dear,” Gaster said dryly, “Anime is garbage and you  _ should _ be ashamed of yourself.”

A pause.

“...I didn’t mean it, truly, it was a joke, albeit a terrible one - I don’t really think that!”

Alphys sniffed imperially, treating him to a particularly petulant glare. It was hard to take him seriously when she had personally seen him cry over the things he called ‘deplorable drivel.’ “If you’re really suh-sorry, you’ll go to the zoo with me.”

Gaster let out a huffy sigh and then, seeing an opportunity to break into the crowd, stepped forward to clear a space for his shorter companion. “Alphys, if you want some time alone with your crush, I’m only going to hold you back.”

“N-No, you won’t!” She protested, hiding in the shadow of his presence. “Yuh, you’ll be a great wingman! Really! Ding, you’ve got to go; there’s no way I can do it alone!”

Gaster heaved a long-suffering sigh, and he was saved from having to make a decision by their timely arrival to the biology room.

Given that it was a biology  _ lab _ , the seats were arranged at long tables with sinks inlaid in the smooth black countertops. Cabinets lined the walls, flanked by comical-yet-macabre warnings about safety, and a whiteboard coated the entirety of the front wall. On it, the teacher - a cyclopsesque monster with a terrifyingly large mouth - scribbled notes in his distinctive jumble.

Though - as previously established - Gaster didn’t pay his classmates any mind, he did notice the conspicuous absence of the girl who always sat to his immediate right. She always arrived before him, either having a nearby class, or perhaps - in a more extravagant theory - being in possession of unnatural agility, so her absence was strange, and he briefly cast his gaze about for her.

Her name was Ivy, and he only knew that because she usually functioned as the third member of his and Alphys’ lab group. Her presence didn’t actually matter, since Gaster always commandeered group activities and made everyone else’s input resoundingly unnecessary, but he still noted the absence and couldn’t help but wonder if he had been the one to spur her to move.

Not that it mattered if she’d taken umbrage with his personality, but he saw Alphys staring at her, and he knew that the other monster was secretly concocting elaborate scenarios where Miss Ivy hated them both and was secretly plotting their murder. 

Not wanting her to self-destruct, he nudged her lightly and murmured some reassurance. “Nothing is the matter and no one hates you.” 

She immediately looked embarrassed about how candidly he’d read her thoughts. “But…”

“Even if she has taken offense to something, I’m sure the problem lies with me, not you. You have to admit, my personality is… less than delightful.”

“Y-You should say things like that!” She chided softly, puffing herself up like a bearded dragon.

Gaster smirked. “I’ll stop being self-deprecating if you do the same.”

“I - look,” Alphys whined, but whatever she was going to say would forever remain a mystery because the next person to walk through the door was you

Normally, Gaster didn’t watch anyone, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you then.  Your hair was neat, which stood out to him now as it certainly hadn’t been when he’d encountered you in the library. You still had that air of forcible calmness about you, shielding you from the world like the iron bars of a cell, and though you smiled generally at the room, it was a far cry from the exuberance he’d seen that morning. The book you’d been so delighted with was conspicuously absent, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d put it in a plastic bag.

Intriguingly enough, you also stared at Ivy as you entered, and when he finally figured out why, Gaster felt like a huge idiot.

She was sitting in your seat.

Gaster did not, unfortunately, possess a keen enough sense of hearing to eavesdrop on your conversation with her, but it was pretty obvious when she turned around in her seat and pointed at him. He flinched immediately, averting his eyes and trying to seem like a studious student only concerned with studying. Sure, he was spying, but no one needed to know that.

“What’s going on?” Alphys whispered, eyeing Gaster with wide, fearful eyes as if he could line all the answers out before her in a manner as neat as his handwriting.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” he responded, trying to sneak little glances up at you. Er. And Ivy, of course. Both of you. And your conversation.

You seemed to be confused yourself, with knitted brows and pursed lips, but Ivy was smiling and, apparently, whatever she said was compelling enough that you left her be and walked over to her former seat. He absolutely did not watch you out of the corner of his eye as you did so. That would have been creepy.

“Hi,” you greeted mildly, and Gaster took this as an invitation to properly look up at you. Immediately, he couldn’t help but think about how much he disliked that plain, vaguely absent smile on your face.

“Hello. Do you need something?”

You shook your head, resting your hand on the flat surface of the empty stool. “The girl who normally sits here wanted to swap seats… You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.” Gaster glanced at Alphys who had, until this point, been content with trying to evaporate into the air. “Do you have any objections?”

“N-no,” Alphys stuttered, and Gaster knew she was internally cursing him for daring to make her speak. As if to apologize, he smoothly took the conversation from there.

“Feel free.” Gaster gestured, and then offered his hand to you for a polite handshake. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced. I’m Gaster - W. D. Gaster, and this is Alphys.”

He indicated her with a tilt of his head, and he couldn’t help noticing how nice your hands were as you took his long fingers between your own. Warm, too, and soft, and he forced himself to ignore those things in favor of your cordial nod. “It’s nice to meet both of you.”

From there, you proceeded to ignore them, setting up your workspace with oddly stiff movements. Gaster waited with increasing impatience for the reward for his gambit, that is - YOUR NAME. WHAT WAS IT. WHAT WAS YOUR REAL NAME? - but it never came, as you seemed totally and completely engrossed in flipping through your notes. What were you doing? Didn’t you know that polite people offered their  _ gosh-darn real names during introductions? _

Gaster screamed internally, but apparently there was no helping it. He wasn’t just going to ask and reveal how much of a moron he was, so he simply assured himself that he’d read it off one of your lab reports. It’d be easy to sneak glances at you work now that you were going to be sitting next to him.

While he was curious about the sudden change, he decided to just take it as a blessing. It would make puzzling out the mystery of  _ you  _ so very much easier, and he couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunities this would present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, story opinion question this time - when drafting up the story, I've come to a crossroads where I could go into various gender-issues with the reader. That is, having their gender-neutrality recognized, discussed, and have some consequences in the story. I could also just totally gloss over it - which would people prefer? I've already got a story where I get to explore a reader whose gender-neutrality is actually pretty relevant, so I won't be heartbroken if I don't go into it in this fic, but...
> 
> Well, I was curious about how people felt about it.
> 
> Another thing - normally I give my readers a name, but it's like - a nickname? So you can imagine their 'real' name being whatever you want. But, similar to question 1, there's a spot where an actual, real name for the reader could be pretty impactful and be relevant. What do you guys think?


	5. Choo-Choo, All Aboard the Train to Anxiety Town

Your soul screamed in unbearable anguish.

What had you done? What witch had you angered? Who had cursed you, and what trials must you undergo to break it? Why was all of this happening to you and why - of  _ all people!  _ \- did you have to sit next to Gaster?

Your day up to that point had been fine, although perhaps ‘fine’ should be defined as ‘moderate success in your attempts to forget the morning’s humiliation.’ Literature had been okay - actually, maybe you should call it great, since you always were down for some good discourse about themes (though you moderated yourself so you didn’t come across as too eager.) History had been dry, as you only spoke of war, but it had been peaceful. Serene. You could forget.

So why -  _ why!  _ \- did everything have to fall apart at Biology?

You knew things were weird from the moment you stepped in the room and saw Ivy Kent sitting in what was normally your seat. Now, you were a creature of habit, and you tended not to mix things up in your day to day life, so seeing her there was… weird. Uncomfortable. It wasn’t like you were mad, though! No, no. She could have the spot if she wanted; you were totally fine with moving.

The bit that was less-than-fine was the way she caught your gaze as you looked over, smiling and beckoning you to come over and speak with her.

Normally, you’d be hunky-dory with some before-class chatter. People wanting to talk to you wasn’t abnormal, after all, you were Undyne’s friend, and sometimes people liked to give you things to pass on to her. But… today? You didn’t really feel up to conversation. There were too many unknowns, too many potential opportunities to embarrass yourself. You just wanted to take a seat and mentally vegetate.

Unfortunately, Ivy wasn’t a person you could refuse. Not because she was commanding or domineering; it was actually the exact opposite. A natural gentleness hung about her, a sort of tender meekness in her smile that was far more genuine than your own. She was sweet, sincere, well meaning, and - most of all -  _ cute _ in a way that made her impossible to ignore. She was the sort of girl who dyed her hair pink not to rebel but to further encompass the ideal of modest sweetness, and it was a crime to brush that kind of person off.

Also perhaps, despite yourself, you were just a little bit curious.

“Hey,” you greeted, settling in front of the counter before her. “What’s up?”

She looked up at you, steepling her hands in a gesture you knew was common for her. “You can sit by Gaster if you want; I’ve already moved all my stuff.”

It was strange how, with just a simple sentence, she could deal you such a critical blow. “What?” You managed not to stutter, and that simple word encompassed your entire emotional being.

_ What. _

Ivy turned, pointing him out to you - not like you needed it, his face haunted your nightmares - and it took all of your power to keep a straight face. “Well, I thought you two might like to… you know… sit together? Since…”

She trailed off, looking back at you with an expression that only confused you further. What was she hinting at? Why was she doing this? Why would anyone think you wanted to sit next to  _ Gaster,  _ of all people? The man who you seemed dead-set on embarrassing yourself in front of?

_ What was going on? _

“Uh,” you began, not really sure how to handle this, and Ivy’s knowing look stopped you dead. What was she implying? Why did she look like she was in on some revelation you… weren’t?

“Really, it’s fine. I don’t mind at all,” she pressed on, and you found yourself breaking under her insistence. What could you do otherwise? Ask her to explain herself? Ignore her and sit someplace totally different? Both seemed like social catastrophes, and you’d already crammed your foot far enough down your throat today. You didn’t need any more strain on your poor heart. Maybe you’d just… Comply? It wouldn’t be that bad, right?

Maybe this was something Gaster had done, and he’d explain himself once he sat down?

After a pause, you realized that only made it worse. Maybe he wanted to sit next to you so he could chew you out for stealing his book, or maybe he intended to punish you for your transgressions. Perhaps Gaster intended to turn your ordinary Biology class into a courtroom where he was the prosecutor, judge, and jury, making your life hell with his quiet  _ judgement. _

That fear gripped at you, but you had to actually do something; you couldn’t just stand here like a weird idiot and stare at Ivy. In your panic - you made the only decision you could.

You buckled.

“Um, thanks,” you mumbled, because clearly Ivy thought she was doing some sort of good deed. You weren’t sure what Gaster had roped her into, but whatever it was, it wasn’t her fault, so you should be polite about it. “I appreciate it.”

“No trouble at all. I think it’s cute!” This was punctuated by a dreamy sigh and, instead of thinking about it, you fled, trudging back to your new seat.

And, along with it, Gaster.

He was the absolute picture of studiousness, peering down at his notebook with focused intent. He was probably reviewing things like a good student with  _ ambition _ and  _ drive, _ and you couldn’t help but admire it for a moment or two before you finally mustered up the will to greet him. “Hi.”

His gaze flicked up to you then, a piercing look that sliced right through you and revealed your very core. Desperately, you tried to swallow your nerves. You’d already made a fool of yourself in front of him once; how could you bear to do it again?

“Hello. Do you need something?” 

He was so abrupt and to-the-point; it was scary! But - wait. What? 

He didn’t know what this was about?

….Perhaps you should rethink your assumption that this was all Gaster’s doing.

“The girl who normally sits here wanted to swap seats… You don’t mind, do you?” you explained, mentally patting yourself on the back for a.) shifting all the blame onto someone else and b.) coming off like a polite, respectable human being by asking about his own feelings. After all, you desperately needed to fix the terrible impression your prior indiscretions had left.

He stared at you for a moment, contemplating you deeply and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your body tensed and, when he spoke, you felt like a twig that had been bent past its limits. “Not at all. Do you have any objections?”

You were thoroughly confused until you followed the arc of his gesture and saw the small monster sitting next to him. She practically flinched under your look, and upon hearing the way she stuttered out a simple no, you felt a spiritual bond develop between the two of you. She wasn’t an unfamiliar presence - you’d heard of her, and knew her interests lay in machinery - but you’d never actually  _ interacted  _ with Alphys, and it was… nice knowing you weren’t the most nervous person in the room.

Still. Your head swam from your own anxiety, so much so that you almost missed it when Gaster proffered his hand for a polite shake. Trying not to panic, you took it, going through the motions mechanically as you wrangled with your own emotions. You weren’t this bad around people normally! You could talk to others, have normal conversations - with those you spoke with, your relationships were predominantly cordial! Why did you have to lose your cool around him?

You could do this, you told yourself. It was easy. Once you had your notes out, you could focus on them, and it’d be like nothing was different. Classes were  _ easy _ , they were  _ routines, _ and sure, the rug had been pulled out from under you today, but this was fine.

You were fine and, as a testament to how fine things were going to be, Mister Arges saved you from the awkward atmosphere by starting class.

Mister Arges was an intelligent man whose education level made him overqualified for his position as a high-school Biology teacher. Unfortunately, Mister Arges did  _ not _ have a particularly engaging demeanor and, despite your best efforts, you had a hard time focusing on him when you had so many other thoughts clamouring for your attention.

A deeply set insecurity infected your every action: how you looked, how you sat, how you wrote - how you even  _ breathed.  _ You felt like every part of your being was under scrutiny, and you needed to be on your best behavior to make a good impression on the boy sitting next to you. Your skin prickled from the stress, and you felt sweat begin to build up on your brow and, though you  _ knew _ you’d put on deodorant and taken a shower, you couldn’t help but worry about your smell. Your skin felt like greasy sludge, and - god, how was your complexion? You hadn’t  _ really _ looked in the mirror that morning; Undyne had been yelling at you to get ready quicker. 

You would have checked your appearance in the reflection of your cell-phone screen, but the thought of him seeing you with it  _ in class _ paralyzed you. What would he think of you? Would he judge you as an ill-bred ruffian who - gasp! - texted in class? 

And your notebook! It took you a few minutes to notice that you’d scribbled down words you’d liked in the margins of your notes (syzygy, tmesis, and queue [a word derived from the french word for ‘tail!’]) and your heart practically stopped as you quickly turned the page to hide your dorky obsession. Had he seen? You hoped he hadn’t seen.

Even your  _ hands _ made you anxious, and the way that you just… couldn’t get your fingers to make letters as nice and neat as Gaster’s. Seriously, how did that boy write so  _ amazingly? _ If your life was a movie, there would be a choir of angels singing in the background every time the camera panned over the pages. Every loop breathed perfection, every drop of ink settled so neatly into perfectly straight lines! How did he do it?  _ How? _

Why couldn’t you do the same? Your writing felt so filthy compared to his, and you couldn’t help but grunt in frustration as you tried to mimic it. 

Suddenly, you heard a soft whisper reverberate next to you. “Hold your pen like this.”

It took you a moment to realize that you weren’t hallucinating, and yet another to put together that, hey, there was really only person it could have come from. 

The seconds stretched into infinity as you slowly turned to meet Gaster’s gaze. “Um. What?”

“Your grip is - here,” he reached out to gently take your hand between his own and carefully adjusted your hold on the pen. “If you hold it like this, you’ll have better control of your movements.”

Your mouth dried up, turning into the oral equivalent of the Sahara Desert. Oh  _ God,  _ how had he known what you were thinking? You weren’t - you hadn’t been mumbling or something, had you? How obvious were your struggles? Oh no, oh no, he  _ definitely thought you were a big weirdo now!  _ You were a fool; how could you have possibly hoped to hide anything from the wonder boy, W. D. Gaster? His powers of observation must be second-to-none! He would definitely pierce you with the lance of truth and, like popping a water balloon, splatter all of your secrets onto the pavement!

This was bad! This was very bad!

And now you had to sit next to him  _ every day, _ because you couldn’t possibly switch seats without offending him!

Maybe you could just stop going to school. The life of a hermit would suit you nicely. Perhaps you could save up a small sum of cash, buy a plane ticket to England, and become some rich eccentric gentleman’s ornamental garden druid. You could live on his property and add a mysterious atmosphere to his countryside estate by spouting prophecies and weaving ominous chants from ancient languages. You could definitely do that. Finally, your linguistic talents would be  _ useful  _ for something!

“Thank you.” You tried to avoid choking it out, but your mouth didn’t seem particularly inclined to behave properly. You were dead. You were physically and emotionally dead. Please, please, someone release you from this horrible mortal coil!

Gaster gave you a firm nod in return before looking back up at the teacher. Your struggle must really have stood out if it'd broken his concentration. You never knew Gaster to talk in class, or to… well, do anything but take academics  _ very seriously. _

God. You really needed to focus on your own work.

This new grip felt odd, but - after taking a quick glance at Gaster’s own hand - it was clear it was how he held his own pen, so… Perhaps this was the proper way? You vaguely remembered your father trying to show you the proper way to write, but he’d given up on you in favor of your sister before you’d really gotten it right. Maybe, once you’d gotten used to it, this would seem easier?

A numbness overtook you, and you stared at the paper before you for a long time. Man. Why was everything so hard, lately?

You never used to be like this. You used to actually be cool.

You could barely remember it now, but you used to be someone that people admired. So why…

Before you really realized it, you’d stood, setting your pen down on your notebook and pushing in your seat. You told yourself no one was looking at you, but it was hard to really internalize that, and the walk to the front of the room where the bathroom pass hung from a nail seemed equivalent to Odysseus’ journey to the underworld. Trying to ignore everything around you, you picked up the laminated strip, using it as your passport to escape the room for a few minutes.

There was nothing weird about going to the bathroom.

There was nothing weird about taking a break to wash your face.

And - okay, maybe having to hide in the stall to calm down was a little unusual…

As long as you could maintain your appearence of ‘average’, everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie a lot of this is DIRECTLY lifted from my anxious 16-year-old self :V
> 
> I just finished up Noragami and started on Kamisama Kiss! What have you guys been watching? Stranger Things is also on my list, everyone's telling me I need to watch that...


	6. Back and Forth

Initially, Gaster’s attention had only been drawn to the scribbles lining your notebook. In them, he found brief glimpses of your personality, slight scraps of insight hinting at your true self - all in the form of strange words and neatly packaged definitions that he wasn’t sure how to… fit into the rest of your personality. Did words interest you? Was that why you had, right above a section about mitochondria, jotted a parenthetical aside about how the term was derived from the Greek words for _thread_ and _granule?_ Was that the sort of thing you thought about, day to day?

From there, once his attention was drawn to your work, it was easy for him to notice your troubles. It wasn’t that your hands fascinated him; he paid no mind to the way the slender digits sloped into fine points nor the fleeting memory of your skin’s strange warmth.

To let his thoughts linger on such things would have been the height of folly.

The frustration creasing your brow, the small glances you sent to his notebook, his own desire to puzzle you out from all the little hints you let slip -  these were the things that lead him to realize that you were trying to change the way you wrote and, more specifically, you were trying to mimic the way _he_ wrote.

It wasn’t strange to him that you envied his penmanship. Everyone should be envious, because he’d damn-well worked for it, just like he worked for everything else in his life. He could see you trying so hard, studying the way he looped his e’s and added little flourishes to his t’s before trying to mimic it yourself, but… why?

The way your fingers held onto your pen tightly, the way your teeth gritted, the way you weren’t breathing _quite_ right… he didn’t understand them. Was this -

Upsetting you?

He had no idea. You were baffling. He couldn’t even begin to interpret your emotional state, and maybe that was why he reached out in that moment - because he didn’t understand but something in him was still fascinated enough to want to help.

“Your grip is - here," he began, but he interrupted himself soon after upon realizing that, shoot, he really shouldn’t be talking in class, and it’d be easier to just show you.

(It wasn’t like he wanted to touch your hand. Definitely not. No ulterior motives existed within this pure, wholesome man.)

“If you hold it like this, you’ll have better control of your movements.” His hand wrapped around yours, digits gently pressing into your soft skin. Your fingers were pliant beneath his, although the rest of you had frozen beneath his touch. Oh, shoot. Were you even breathing?

“Thank you,” you said, your voice fake and forced, and - had he made this weird? He’d definitely made this weird.

He pulled his hand back, but the damage already seemed to have been done, with you sitting there and staring down at your notebook like it would save you from the entire world. In that moment, Gaster recognized something in you, something that he felt a little foolish for not having seen traces of before.

You looked like Alphys on the day they met, when she was trying not to cry in the first class of their Freshman year.

That realization made him feel… strange, and neither was his mood improved when you stood a few minutes later, swiftly diving upon the bathroom pass and escaping the room. Drat, he hadn’t meant to shame you, truly - and the thought sent an unnatural amount of _guilt_ coursing through him. This was bizarre. W. D. Gaster didn’t feel _guilty._ He didn’t _regret_ things.

So much about his brief association with you was… odd.

Still. You’d just presented him with an opportunity, and - as the door settled closed behind you - he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to take it.

With a casual motion, he eased your still-open notebook in front of him, covering his own work with yours. Normally, such a distraction would be abhorrent, but he was _too curious_ , and - perhaps you deserved some comeuppance for peeking into his own things on your first meeting. Yes. This was just justice. There was absolutely nothing weird about anything he was doing.

“Windgings!” Alphys hissed, her eyes darting to the front of the room before returning to him. “What are you doing? That’s weird!”

...Alphys had no right to judge _anyone_ on such matters.

“A little investigation,” he murmured, turning back a few pages. Your linguistic habits went back pretty far - on every page, strange words were crammed in wherever you had room to fit them. Quickly, however, he began to realize that it was more than just definitions and etymological analysis - you wrote little questions to yourself, too, and beyond that…

Jokes.

 _The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense!_ he read scribbled on the bottom of one page, and on the next, _What word begins with T, ends with T, and has T in it? A teapot!_ Squeezed around it was a rumination on the word ‘panda’, as the same word described both the animal and a type of Hindu scholar. Apparently, comparing such a dumb creature to a learned man was amusing to you, and a number of small doodles accompanied your observations. It was...

Interesting. Each page he flipped was a joy to look at.

After about a minute, Alphys nudged him again. “Ding, you really, really need to stop, someone will notice…!”

While Gaster was a profoundly unapologetic man, he _did_ have to admit that this could lead to a pretty awkward situation, so he returned the book back to where it was with a small, unsatisfied huff.

Alphys gave him a highly dubious look, but seemed to relax a bit now that the stakes weren’t so high. “...Are you satisfied, now? Do you understand their dark secrets?”  
  
Gaster snorted slightly before shaking his head. They sat near the back - mostly due to Alphys’ anxiety - but he still didn’t want to push things in regards to the whole… class chatter thing, and he’d already distracted himself enough besides. In the beautiful handwriting that had started all of this, he wrote a simple ‘I’ll tell you later’ in the corner of his notebook before continuing his work.

You returned after a time, and he did you the courtesy of not looking at you farther. Gaster was in possession of a number of teenage character flaws, a rather high opinion of himself and his own righteousness being one of them, but he doubted himself now, as he thought back to the fear and awkwardness that occasionally permeated your character.

If you truly were like Alphys - in any sense - he should treat you with more courtesy. Small things could damage you, and… for some reason, hurting _you_ in particular left an ugly, sour taste in his mouth.

He wasn’t sure why. Flashes of your smile haunted him for no real, clear-cut reason beyond a sense of curiousity that - strangely enough - coalesced into something more permanent each time he learned something more about you. He had no idea what to do about it, really, other than continue to investigate and - ...awkwardly fumble around some attempts of kindness. He didn’t want you to stiffen like that anymore.

He didn’t want you to flinch from him.

He wanted to --

For a moment, Gaster stared at his paper.

No, that was _not_ something he wanted, thank you, and he was going to blame his teenage hormones for any stray, idle thoughts about your person. Though, he did allow himself a glance at those lovely hands of yours - simply for science’s sake! - to see how you were getting on.

...You’d kept the grip he showed you, and for some reason, the image of you focused like that was burned into his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I managed to squeeze this in today! I'm actually kinda sad - today's my last day in Alaska before I go visit a friend for a week, but my father is incredibly ill... So I didn't really get to spend my last day with him. How about you guys? Summer is coming to a close... Have you taken any trips or done anything fun?


	7. A Cameo is a Type of Brooch, Right?

You managed to get through the day without whining to Undyne for emotional support, a fact which you jotted down in your mental registry as a _win._ Of course, this didn’t keep her from noticing how preoccupied you were, so she worked her usual Undyne magic and - yes, the both of you might have reverted back to your ten-year old states, gone back to your old club-house, and maybe kinda-almost got Undyne killed when the both of you miscalculated _just_ how high that trash can could bounce. Really, it was a good thing Undyne was such a good swimmer, because otherwise you might have had to call the police to fish her out of the lake.

As usual, the pair of you stayed out late, you skipped on homework, and it was time to rinse-and-repeat for the next day.

And the next.

And the next, until you’d made it to Friday with no more embarrassing incidents to damage your record.

You had a game next week, so your Friday afternoon would, obviously, be devoted to practice. Shooting, defending, doing drills, constructing strategies with your other teammates - Undyne managed it all with boundless confidence and an iron fist, and you tagged along behind her as you always did. Today, you mostly focused on a few of the promising Freshmen on your team, instilling in them the art of a good, solid defense and having them practice trying to keep the ball away from you.

Being a modest soul, you didn’t really like to brag about your talents, but you were phenomenal at forcing other players into a bad situation, nabbing the ball from them, and passing it to Undyne, whereupon she’d make some sort of awe-inspiring shot or another that sent the crowd into a cheering frenzy. Unfortunately, this made you a horribly predictable player, and many of your exercises involved honing your shooting ability so you could at least go for the basket if things came down to the wire.

It was… a work in progress.

It made you feel a bit better knowing that Undyne had her own deficiencies - being unfortunately easy to taunt and, as some of the other more whimsical teammates put it, bamboozle - but still, you wished your aim was better than a walking cantaloupe, and being unable to pull off Undyne’s fancy across-the-court shots and other stunning slam-dunks did make you feel like you were pretty… lame in comparison.

But for now, you tried not to worry about it as you trained the new recruits - particularly since something else had been bothering you all practice.

One of the girls in your year, Maxine, seemed really… distracted.

Maxine wasn’t a particularly good player, all things considered. She was short - not that height was the end-all-be-all in basketball, but man, she was _short -_ and nothing about her technique really… stood out in any capacity. She was an okay shot, okay at passing, had an okay stance and a tolerable sense of judgement… but she made up for every single deficiency with her pure, unbridled rage at the world.

Maxine, in short, had spunk. Spark. Boundless and uncontainable energy, which always carried with it an undercurrent of sheer, electric hostility that made her a frightening force to behold. You got out of Maxine’s way or you _died,_ because that was just the sort of irritable, temperamental person she was.

But today? You couldn’t detect any of that in her. She just seemed… lost. Dejected. For a terrifying she-beast like her, that was some cause for concern, and since being the cuddly-wuddly counselor of the team kind of fell naturally on your shoulders, you set off to find out what was the matter.

“Hey Maxine,” you called out after catching Undyne’s eye, letting her know with a quick gesture that yes, you’d noticed the problem and yes, you were going to take care of it. “Take five.”

She looked away from the shot she’d totally wiffed, scowling in your general direction like your face had suddenly morphed into a scarab beetle. “...Why?”

“‘Cos I wanna run something by you, and you’ve been at it for awhile anyway. You could use a break.” With an easy motion, you beckoned her over to the bleachers. Honestly, you wanted to preserve her pride - being called out specifically from practice was… assuredly not a comforting thing.

She huffed, scooping up the ball and cupping it underneath her arm before trudging over.

You patted the seat next to you as she approached, offering her one of the chilled bottles of water that Coach Bearsson always bought for the lot of you. Since she wasn't really the type of person who liked accepting help or kindness, Maxine eyed it warily before her thirst - and, likely, your status as second-in-command - forced her to get over her reservations and accept it.

In a singular, massive gulp, she drained the bottle half-way, causing the plastic to collapse in on itself in the violent way you expected from the girl. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she turned her sharp, bright blue eyes towards you. “What do you require, Fallen Star?”

You restrained a wince. In combination with her general unsociability, Maxine also spoke like a _total weirdo_ \- and, occasionally, her weird turns-of-phrase struck a little too close to home for comfort. “I wanted to run a play by you and Katie,” you explained before picking up your playbook and starting to scribble. Along with your pretty good defense, you had a knack for strategizing that Undyne simply did not possess - though you couldn’t possibly _ever_ measure up to the way she got the entire team pumped before a match.

Maxine listened as you went over a few scenarios, and after you’d lulled her into a false-enough sense of security, you finally brought up the real reason why you wanted to talk to her. “So, how’ve you been doing today, anyway?”

You were very, very careful not to imply you thought she was performing poorly - you weren’t dumb enough to toy with an armed bomb - but she bristled anyway, ready to be offended. “And why do you ask?”

Putting on a confident smile, you told yourself that this was your team, and you could play pretend for a bit for the sake of their well-being. “Because the entire team’s gotta be at their best if we want to win, which means I oughta check up on everyone now-and-again, y’know?

Getting Maxine to tell you what was up wouldn’t be as simple as just asking about it. She was a complicated, delicate flower, and you knew if something was really bothering her, she’d do her best impression of a frustrated clam if you brought it up bluntly. You needed to make sure it didn’t look like you were singling her out or anything, and then gently ease her into telling you the problem.

Interpersonal relationships were hard.

“Mmph,” she replied, staring down at the ball in her lap in vague discontent. “You’ve no need for concern or curiosity. I am, as they say, _fine._ ”

You weren’t really sure who ‘they’ might be other than everyone in existence, but hey, judging people for that sort of vague eccentricity wasn’t really your jam. “You sure? You’re with the Wildlife Club, right? I hear you guys are doing some big projects - that’s not stressing you out or anything?”

For a moment, Maxine was _clearly_ caught off guard, and you wondered if you’d maybe stumbled upon something with your aimless small talk. “No!” She snapped, looking away and hugging the basketball to her chest. “I am a proud member, content with my work and my affiliations! Everything is… smooth! Like butter, and cream, and… silk!”

You put aside her fairly nonsensical comparisons, simply quirking your eyebrow and staring at her levelly. “...You sure? Anything I could help out with, maybe? I do admire the work you guys do; I wouldn’t mind chipping in on a project if you don’t have enough hands or something.”

Just casually throw some flattery in there, imply some allegiance to Maxine’s causes, and… boom! Looks like you were getting somewhere from the way she not awkwardly fidgeted with the ball in her hands. “It’s… no, we don’t need any help, really…”

Scooting in a little, you lowered your voice kindly. “But is there something else? Really, if something’s on your mind, it’s for the whole team’s benefit if I help you out. Actually… you could maybe even think of it as my _duty_.”

(Don’t make her feel like you’re doing her a favor, she’d _hate_ that…)

“...There is, perhaps,” she began carefully, and you resisted pumping your fist in the air. “A… small matter on my mind.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

Maxine - Maxine _flushed?_ Holy cannoli, was she _blushing?_ “There’s, ah. A girl. A fellow commander - in charge of the treasury, you see. In the club. And she’s…”

There was a pause which lengthened into what initially seemed like it would be infinity, but eventually culminated in a simple. “Teasing me.”

Both eyebrows went up. “Teasing you?”

“Yes! Teasing me!” Maxine spat, her mouth twisted in muddled unhappiness. “Saying that I am - I am cute! And endearing! And that - and that my clothes look nice on me!”

Maxine sounded so horrifically offended, like she’d just revealed someone had been calling her a litany of pejoratives before literally spitting on her grandmother’s grave or something. “That’s…” you began, not really sure how to finish, and Maxine huffed mightily.

“Terrible! Heinous! Atrocious and, ultimately, _unforgivable!_ I am great, mighty, and powerful! Not… not _cute.”_

“Of course not,” you agreed, because the only way to get anywhere with Maxine was to agree with her. “Though… maybe this girl thinks terrifying things are cute? Like, there’s someone in my Lit class who is completely and absolutely convinced that snails are the most precious things ever.”

“That’s because snails _are_ cute! I am not! This - this _impertinent siren_ laughs at my power! Laughs! Like she thinks it’s funny!”

You could easily understand how Maxine could come across as _funny,_ especially when she was going on about corporate conspiracies and chaining herself to trees. Like, look, you weren’t knocking the uprising of the proletariat in protest of big business or the necessity of the green revolution, but seeing Maxine - teeny, tiny little Maxine - as a warrior for Mother Earth was, quite honestly, hilarious.

You admired her goals, but her demeanor was ludicrous, y’know?

You were about to say something supportive when Maxine suddenly continued, her palms curving around the top of the ball. “...A-and, I don’t want her to think I’m funny, or to make jokes about me. I - I’m not, I’m not some kitten for her to fawn over, I’m…”

At this point, Maxine was totally and completely red. “...Her equal.”

Oh boy. The problem was clear now - Maxine had a crush and was responding to it in typical Maxine fashion - letting her insecurities turn her into an erratic mess.

“Does she really not see you as her equal? It might just be that she thinks you’re cute.”

“You cannot be an equal with something that is _cute!”_ The venom returned to Maxine’s voice. “Cuteness is for - for _keychains_ and for _mascot characters._ Adults are not cute! They are… they’re _mature_ a-and… regal a-and pretty… like she is…”

That last bit came out as a whisper, and you desperately restrained a laugh. “Aw, Max… Being cute isn’t just a ‘kid’ thing. Being mature is all about having the confidence to take charge of things, y’know? Like with the club. You’ve helped organize tons of projects - I’m sure this girl sees you as an equal.”

“But - “ Maxine pouted. “I feel - she makes me feel so _small_ with her laugh, and - and I am going to be leading the expedition to the zoo on Saturday, and she’s helping me, and I don’t _know_ anyone there… She’s going to rend me to cinders, I know it! Turn me to ash, and embarrass me in front of a crowd of hungry strangers!”

Oh. So she was helping Maxine organize the trip to the zoo, and she was afraid of interacting with her crush while managing the trip. Okay, fair enough. “Would it help at all if I was there? I’m your friend, right? Would that give you any confidence?”

Maxine looked up suddenly, staring at you. “Were you planning to attend?”

You shrugged vaguely. “Not really - but hey, it sounds fun. I could drag Undyne too, make a day of it. How’s that sound? I bet having Undie there would get you fired up, right?”

She flicked her gaze from you to the ball, then back to you again, clearly trying to put on an expression of pride. “...I suppose I could do you the service of getting you in, since our doors have closed and sign-ups are, summarily, locked.”

You beamed. “Sounds great. You’re all meeting up at… ten, right? I’ll be there. No need to worry, Max - with your team nearby, no one will - uh, rend you to cinders or anything, okay?”

Maxine nodded again and, unless your eyes deceived you, her shoulders seemed to be lighter and her expression less uneasy and violently anxious. “You’ll be allowed admittance, I’ll ensure it. And, er - ” she paused, then stood suddenly, practically hopping off the bench you’d both been seated on. “It - I should continue practice. For the game.”

You figured that was her way of saying thank you, and you accepted it, standing as well. “Sounds peachy. Go Billygoats!” You made the school’s hand-sign with a grin, mimicking horns with your pinky and pointy finger. “Oh, and - Maxine?”

“Yes?” She paused, ball held between the tips of her fingers.

You gave her a thumbs up. “Your feelings aren’t silly, so don’t feel embarrassed about them, okay? You really can talk to me whenever.”

Not one to be baited, Maxine huffed, morphing her posture into a dribble as she ran to rejoin the others. You had expected as much; even though your offer extended beyond her clear-and-obvious crush, Maxine wasn’t really the type to be particularly open with her emotions in general. Today had been a fluke, probably because she was _so worried_ about tomorrow.

It was a start, though, and you grinned at Undyne when you saw her looking at you. At the very least, Maxine seemed to have her fire back, so no matter how tomorrow went - or the eventual outcome of her high school infatuations - for now, everything was alright, and you could get back to the real matter at hand -

Honing your skills so you could kick the competition _into the metaphorical dirt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY MESSAGES I'VE GOTTEN ABOUT THE FOREST WITCH SHE SHOWS UP IN ONE CHAPTER
> 
> Haaah, back to school season... What classes are people taking? Anything interesting? I'm taking Communications (UGH!!!), Introduction to Digital Design, Drawing 2, and a 6 credit Japanese course that meets every single day lmao end me.


	8. The Pot Repeatedly Calls the Kettle Black, Because Someone Lacks the Self-Awareness of a Peanut

“How long is this going to take?” Alphys asked uneasily, plodding along after Gaster as he strode down the hall. He looked like he should be billowing, so strident and clear was his purpose, and Alphys couldn’t help but feel small, inelegant, and bafflingly out of place beside him. “I, uh, I could always just… go on ahead…”

Gaster waved away her concerns with a casual sweep of his hand. “Nonsense! It’ll only take a few minutes, and regardless, you need to meet more people. The Literature Club should be full of your sort, shouldn’t it? You’re always reading.”

“Manga! I’m a-always reading _manga!”_ She fidgeted, looking uneasily up and down the hallway the staircase had dumped them out into. “N-Not _literature._ They’ll think I’m a… an idiot!”

Gaster rolled his eyes, and he materialized a tongue for the express purpose of clicking it. “They publish a school literary magazine; they’ve no right to judge anyone.”

“Buh-but, but that’s _cool!”_

Whatever Gaster’s reply was going to be, it would forever remain lost to the annals of history because, as soon as the pair turned the corner, they stopped dead in their tracks. Down the hall, pushing open the glass door that lead into the school’s library, was the striking, recognizable figure of Alphys’ crush, Ylva Bearsson.

Ylva was the remarkable progeny of a Norwegian wildlife researcher and his wife, a fabulously talented model from Lousiana, and she took after both parents in all of the best ways. Not only was she caring, kind, intelligent and _tall_ like her father, but she was also unfairly beautiful and carried herself with her mother’s seemingly effortless poise. She had her father’s sense for facts and her mother’s sense for numbers, so not only did she look good, but she did well in school, and her future was, without question, a bright one.

Every part of her bled focused intention and considerable care, from her bun made of elaborately designed and neatly kept cornrows to the healthy glow of her dark skin, and though she wore the typical school uniform, somehow it just felt _fashionable_ on her - probably due to her tasteful jewelry choices and incredibly nice legs. In her arms was an ugly, kind of battered cardboard box, which did a little to humanize the goddess creature standing before Alphys, though… not by much, as the yellow monster was completely and absolutely head over heels, and everything Ylva did was softened by a hazy pink glow of romance.

Normally, Ylva wasn’t the type of person she’d get a crush on - she’d just be terrified and intimidated by her presence and beauty. But, coincidentally, Alphys’ house was right near the path that she liked taking her _five dogs_ out for walks on, and the school idol had, on one of those excursions, seen Alphys being teased by her neighbor: a rather unfortunate bully who had taken to tormenting the smaller monster for her hobbies.

Ylva, also possessing her father’s well-renowned sense of justice, had of course intervened, though it was more like her _dogs_ had intervened, because, wow, seeing a stunning woman with _four huge dogs and a tiny corgi_ telling you that, hey, you need to knock it off, was kind of a terrifying force to behold. So, he’d fled, Alphys had been saved from her horribly awkward encounter in a way typical of overwrought teen romance.

Ylva had sealed the deal by noticing the bag in Alphys’ hand - the bag full of the newest releases she’d bought, including the remastered edition of Mew Mew Kissy (the original!) - and had,with a single comment, confirmed that not only was she gorgeous and heroic…

...But she also had the correct opinions about anime, since she believed that the original was much better than the sequel.

That’d basically doomed Alphys, and it didn’t help that, whenever she saw Alphys after that, she always invited her to come pet her dogs and talk about nerdy crap.

Despite Ylva’s friendliness, Alphys’ crush kept her from being coherent and calm on the best of days, but - now? At school? When she was already stressed from Gaster dragging her on his weird information-hunting obsession? She’d basically died inside, not even able to muster up a friendly greeting as Ylva noticed her, smiling warmly and approaching them with a, “Hello Alphys, hello Gaster! What’re you two doing here?”

“Hello Yvla,” Gaster said smoothly, taking over the conversation because he knew Alphys would be far, far more comfortable hiding behind him - both metaphorically and literally. “We’re here to talk to the Literature club about their magazine. Do you need any help with that?” He nodded to the box in her arms, occasionally capable of being polite.

She followed his gaze, then shook her head delicately. “No, it’s not too heavy, and I don’t have to take it far. It’s just the fliers for a bake-sale we’re doing at the end of the month.”

“A-Are… Are you sure?” Alphys managed to squeak, and immediately regretted speaking after because, wow, _that_ came out sounding weird. “We. Could. I mean - ”

Ylva - among her other good qualities - possessed an infinite amount of patience for Alphys and her anxieties, so she picked up on the trajectory of the sentence, even though it hadn’t really… found its way to its final destination. “Really, it’s fine. Though, if you want to help…”

After shuffling her grip on the box, Ylva reached in, extracting two fliers and holding them out with a bright smile. Gosh, Alphys even liked her _braces,_ and how she could show them off like it didn’t impact her confidence at all. “Tell your friends about it! All the funds are going to habitat conservation efforts, so it’s fine to indulge, right?”

Gaster took them, which Alphys both silently thanked and cursed him for. It prevented her from embarrassing herself, but if she’d… If she’d taken it herself, then…. then maybe she would have had a _hand touching_ moment…!

(No, no, it’s good that he leaned down to give her the flier instead, just _thinking_ about it killed her.)

“I, I’m sure my, my grandpa would - would love it if I brought something home,” Alphys said, staring at the flier so she didn’t have to look at Ylva. Ahh, why was she so _pretty._ “Um, tuh-thanks! We’ll definitely go!”

(Was that too excited? Ahh! Why was she such a weirdo!!!)

Gaster eyed the flier for a moment before tucking it into his bag. “Yes, thank you. Good luck in your endeavors, Miss Bearsson.”

“You too! And - before I go,” she paused, stopping mid step and looking back at Gaster. “How’re things… _going?”_

“Going?” Gaster said, his mouth lengthening in confusion.

“With - ...well, no, nevermind, I suppose it’s not my business, is it?” Another pleasant smile, and her gaze dropped down to Alphys. “See you. When you’re not busy, I’d love to know what you’re watching this season.”

“R-r-ri...ri...right!” Alphys gave her a smile that seemed a bit forced with its rampant enthusiasm. She still couldn’t believe _that this pretty, popular girl not only watched anime but also talked to her, ahhhh!!!_ “Bu-Buh… Bye!”

Ylva turned to go then, striding down the hall with the box in hand, and Alphys stared after her wistfully, her expression positively lovelorn. Gaster stood behind her, contemplating the situation before letting out a tired, long-suffering sigh, like the entire affair was too much to bear.

“You really do go a bit mad for her, Alphys. It’s very silly.”

From any normal person, Alphys would have probably started crying from the judgement - and even with her best friend, she often faltered in the defense of her own heart. But the past few days of him being a _huge weirdo_ had worn on her, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with his blatant hypocrisy. “Wh-what’s that supposed to mean, Mister High-And-Mighty? We-we’re on an investigation because _someone_ got all obsessed with a random stranger! At least, I, uh, at least…” Though she was trying to steel herself, Alphys had to look away at this. “...A-at least, I, y’know. We’ve. We’ve _talked.”_

“False equivalencies, my dear. My interest in Aegis is _purely_ academic, while yours is a petty infatuation.” Gaster gestured in a grand, all encompassing manner, and Alphys stared at him in a flat way like she’d had just about enough of his gratuitous bullshit. He continued, though, like he just _loved_ the sound of his own voice. “Crushes, young love - it’s a fool’s game, something that belongs behind a television screen or inside the binding of a book where it can be safely appreciated and then, once deemed unnecessary, be put away.”

Gaster was a man who liked to put things in boxes and shove them deep, deep inside of himself, locking them in the basement of his heart, and while Alphys often shared similar tendencies, at least she was _a little bit self aware._

(One had to realize what a horrible, awful, cowardly trash-heap they were to hate themselves properly, after all.)

“Do you have _auh-any_ shame?” she said dryly, as Gaster brought out that secret, snarky part of herself that she usually reserved for tearing herself down. Also, she was admittedly kind of ticked off right now; Gaster was sort of being a dick.

“...I, admittedly, might be…” He hummed to himself. “Indulging in a bit of dramatic hyperbole, but my point still stands. Alphys, you’re letting your feelings dominate you, and - honestly? It’s probably better for your health to not indulge in high school affairs. There’s nothing but suffering in them.”

“S-Says the person who’s nuh-ne-never been on a _date,”_ she snapped, adjusting her glasses and glaring up at him.

“I was referring to _your_ dating history when I said that.” His tone was mild, as if he was simply pointing out a fact, which made him appear rather cold in comparison to Alphys’ flush of rage and the tears that sprung to her eyes.

“I, I, I, cuh-cuh-can’t believe yuh, you’d - _I c-can't buh-believe you'd say that!_ ”

Gaster seemed to, quite immediately, realize that he’d _fucked up,_ and he quickly dropped to his knees, catching Alphys’ arm before she could run off down the hall. “I - oh, drat, I - I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth as his uppity manner dissolved completely. “I’m sorry. That’s not - that came out badly. That came out _very_ badly, I…”

“You’re right, it di-dih, it did,” she growled, and then - gosh. Why was she letting herself get mad? Why was she lashing out at him, and being so ugly and _angry?_ He shouldn't have to apologize. She didn’t deserve an apology, and so she deflated, though her eyes still had that misty quality to them and, without warning, the tears started to spill as her internal frustration leaked out.

Oh _dammit,_ Gaster internally swore. He’d gone too far. Yes, he thought it was stupid, thought she was setting herself up for a horrendous fall. It was true, he was worried about her, but he didn’t need to bring all _that shit_ up. That had been in poor form, and now she was _crying._

Gaster was a man who was terrible at comforting people, so he said the first thing that came to mind, no matter how petty and trite it was. “I - I’ll go to the zoo! With you! I’m still certain I’d be no help, but I…” A weak little pause. “...I’m sorry, Alphys. I meant to say that I’m worried about you, and that I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Alphys sniffed, peering at him from between her fingers. Half of her wanted to be angry, half of her hated herself for being angry, and those rough feelings tore at each other. He hadn’t really meant anything with all the junk he’d said; she knew Gaster was all talk, and she knew she shouldn’t take it seriously. But sometimes it was just so _hard…!_ “Maybe y-y-you, you should just…”

The insecurity claimed her again, and she trailed off, looking away. “Nevermind.”

“No, no. Tell me, please. Speak your mind. _I was out of line.”_

Alphys struggled with all of these conflicting feelings, of anger at him and anger at herself for even daring to be angry. Finally, prompted by his intense look, she said, “M-Maybe you should just, y’know. Say that. I-Instead of… b-b-being a b-b-big _jerk.”_

Gaster let out a long sigh. There was only one person in the world he could have this kind of conversation with, and he was standing right in front of her. “This is what I meant when I said I’m intolerable, Alphys. I’ve no idea how to do that. I’m a cold man, with a heart of stone and a hide of…”

A thoughtful pause, and then he tried to cheer Alphys up in the only way he knew how - banter. “I don’t know, what would you say I have the hide of? A prickly pear? A cactus? One of those burrs that fall off of trees and get stuck on your shirt?”

Sniffle, and maybe - just maybe! - a little laugh. “Muh-maybe… Maybe… Ice?”

“A hide of ice?” He mulled this over for a moment before smiling. “A heart of stone and a hide of ice, yes, that does make me sound deplorable. Rather like a villain, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yuh-you, you _did_ blow up the chemistry lab,” she said, managing to smile a little now. “I think, think you’re a villain in training.”

“Ah, yes. The Great Doctor Gaster with his frightening chemicals, and the Esteemed Doctor Alphys with her awe inspiring robots. We’ll be a right pair of super-villains, won’t we?”

Okay, _now_ she laughed, and Gaster finally managed to relax as the tension had been diffused. “Really though, I was serious. I’m sorry for what I said, and I’ll go to the zoo with you. How’s that sound?”

“You - ” She fidgeted, looking away again. “Don’t have to, not to apologize. I forgive you. It’s my fault for being sensitive.”

Gaster stared at her face in profile. “No, it’s not, you’ve a right to be sensitive about that sort of thing. Here, let me put it like this - I, W. D. Gaster, am going to the zoo with you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop me. You can put up walls, you can shut down the streets, you can hire assassins to eliminate me - but nothing you can do will keep me from my goal.”

A smile. “How’s that sound?”

Alphys let out an unseemly little snort that she immediately seemed embarrassed by. “Y-You, I dunno what to do with you.”

“Well!” He stood finally, then smiled down at her. “Once you’ve collected yourself, you can help _me_ collect some information. We’ve still got a meeting to crash, after all.”

Though she sighed, Alphys couldn’t help but smile as she wiped at her face. W. D. Gaster was a total and complete idiot, and she pitied you mightily for having caught his notice, but drat, despite his flaws, he could still be pretty charming sometimes.

This was probably a side of him that only she got to see. “O-Okay. Okay… just… let me go to the bathroom first, o-okay? And wash my face.”

Gaster bowed. “I will be waiting right here for you, madame.”

“Nerd,” she said, without any particular hostility, and Gaster smiled as he called after her.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?”

Alphys didn’t really have a reply to that, considering Gaster was the biggest hypocrite of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE FRIENDSHIP. MORE HINTS ABOUT BACKSTORY. MORE GASTER BEING A JERK.
> 
> This chapter got away from me a bit; I'd initially intended for the conversation to happen a bit differently. Oh well! I still think it turned out alright. Let's see... Does anyone go to museums? What's your favorite? I, very typically, like the National Gallery of Art, but I also never forgot the one trip I made to the Mutter museum! .......I was kind of a weird kid who liked strange things.


	9. The Dramatical Tendencies of the Literary Club

He wasn’t quite certain what he’d expected of the club responsible for the literature magazine’s bi-weekly publication, but it certainly wasn’t a mere trifecta of freshman and a single, somewhat ragged looking senior.

Gaster recognized two of the magazine’s staff right off the bat. The first, of course, was Asriel, who’d focused himself so intently on the computer screen before him that he didn’t even notice when the door opened, and the second was the aforementioned senior, a girl named Fuku whose reputation for being studious preceded her. Gaster had heard she’d gotten into a very nice school, and that was about where his awareness of her ended.

The human child with sharply cut, chin-length brown hair was completely foreign to him, however. They flanked Asriel and seemed to be offering critique or general commentary on the picture he had on the screen, though they turned their attention away as soon as the door opened to pierce Gaster with an alarmingly red gaze. They were frighteningly intense eyes, like a pair of garnets had been stolen from an Anglo-Saxon queen’s jewelry box and gifted to the child upon their birth, and Gaster froze beneath the child’s suspicion.

So much so that he almost didn’t notice the final member, another human with darker toned skin, fluffier hair, and perpetual sort of squinty, dubious look. They sat quietly, peering at Gaster curiously, their hand paused mid-stroke in whatever they were writing on the notebook before them.

“Oh, hello there. Welcome!” Fuku was the first to rise, her calm, polite greeting returning Gaster to reality. “Welcome to the Literature Club. What can we do for you?”

“My friend and I are interested in getting a copy of one of this year’s earlier issues. It’s a story about someone named Aegis?”

That red-eyed child perked up a bit at that, leaning against the desk as they half-turned to the door. “What do you want it for?”   
  
“Scholastic interest,” Gaster replied, watching as Asriel bounded up out of the chair and pranced over to a file cabinet. “I’m Gaster, by the way, and this is Alphys. It’s nice to meet you all.”

(Alphys waved at his side, looking like she wanted to wither away and die.)

“Chara.” Red-eyes stood properly, stalking over to them and settling in front of the pair with crossed arms. “I’m the Vice-President. ”

“Fuku. President,” she smiled, then gestured at the other human in the room. “And this is Frisk, our treasurer.”

Frisk gave them both a kind of sleepy-looking nod, which set an almost comical contrast to the next speaker’s exuberance.

“And you already know me - Asriel!” He turned, a glossy-covered magazine held in one paw, and the other settled dramatically on his hip. “Here it is! Our first September issue! Treat it gently, okay? This baby saved the club!"

“Saved… the club?” Gaster repeated as he reached out to take it. Chara’s smirk was truly self-satisfied, while behind them, Fuku looked a little frazzled. 

“Ah, well. Sort of,” she explained, turning away and approaching a plastic table lining the back. Gaster hadn’t noticed it before, but - along with having a computer - the Literature Club had access a hot plate, a tea-kettle, and what looked to be a coffee-maker. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I wouldn’t complain about some tea.” Gaster looked down at Alphys, whose first instinct was to stutter about how it wasn’t necessary, though with some prompting she conceded to the offer. Asriel wanted hot chocolate, as did Chara - while Frisk took a refresher on their coffee cup.

Asriel went over to help Fuku as she talked. “Well, as you might know, not only do we meet to talk about books and writing, but we’re also responsible for publishing the literary magazine, which traditionally is composed of student works. However… for a few years now, we haven’t really been doing any recruitment, and - class by class - our numbers have been dwindling.”

Beep, beep. Fuku set the kettle on the hot-plate while, next to her, Asriel portioned out some cocoa-mix. “This year, I was the only one left, and the club was in dire straits. Either we needed to get enough members to become a formal club… or we were going to be disbanded. I wasn’t really sure what to do, as I had no experience recruiting, until Mrs. Brown introduced those three to me, saying they desperately wanted to be a part of the club.”

“Chara, Frisk and I thought the literary magazine sounded really cool,” Asriel explained, turning around and giving Gaster a bright smile. “And the both of them  _ really _ like to write, so when we heard that the club wasn’t going to be around anymore if something didn’t happen… we decided we had to join!”

“Unfortunately, it seemed like the school board was just generally tired of funding the literary magazine. They basically said to us,  _ you can be a club, but you don’t have enough people to publish the magazine, so we’re lowering your budget.” _ Chara grinned, but it was a sharper expression than Asriel’s soft easiness. A bit more… wolfish. “We decided that we were going to prove them wrong and blow their socks off with the first issue. It was as we were brainstorming for story ideas when Asriel, Frisk and I went to the first basketball game of the year. Which is where we saw our muses...”

“The greatest and coolest, true and righteous heroes…” Asriel continued, before the pair of them tossed the verbal baton to Frisk...

...Who squinted at them over their coffee mug and totally ruined everything. “Undyne and - ”

“Ugh! No! Use the names from the story!” Chara whined, their vaguely frightening vulpine features totally ruined by the resulting childish pout. “I thought we agreed about this! Using those names builds up hype and support for the magazine!”

“Yeah, Frisk! We need hype, or we won’t get the funding we need to keep publishing! We’ve gotten enough support to do a  _ bi-weekly  _ run! How cool is that?”

Gaster held up a hand, calling the room into order. Poor Fuku; no wonder why she looked tired, if she was dealing with these three constantly. “So, let me get this straight - to keep your funding, you had to make sure the first issue would be very compelling to the student body… So you took advantage of the school-spirit around the basketball team to build interest?”

“That’s right.” Chara took the first of the hot-chocolates, sipping at it. “We dramatized the team’s exploits in an alternate universe fantasy story. Our main characters - Aegis and Atrytone - gave us their permission and allowed us to embellish them in print.”

“It was my idea,” Frisk commented idly, setting their pen down and giving the conversation their full attention. “Chara did most of the actual writing; I proofread. It was more popular than I expected.”

Alphys finally interjected into the conversation. “Y’know, now that I think about it, I k-kinda remember people talking about it a-at the beginning of the year…”

“Were you living under a rock?” Chara crossed their arms again, their mouth slanted into a disapproving expression. “Everyone was talking about it! It was cool! And Azzy worked really hard illustrating it.”

Asriel rubbed the back of his head, his nervous laughter drawing attention away from Alphys’ chastised expression. “I’ve gotten a lot better since then… Anyway. Yeah, that’s the backstory behind it. We got our funding back from the school, and Mrs. Brown has been helping us out a lot. If it weren’t for her, we probably wouldn’t be able to release stuff as often as we do.”

Humming lightly, Fuku dropped a teabag into the pot and brought it to the table, along with a collection of cups and mugs. “We owe her a lot. She lets us make drinks in here, and we’re allowed to used the faculty refrigerator in the library office, too… It makes staying after school much more comfortable.”

There were a few extra chairs around the table, and Gaster pulled out one for Alphys. He elected to stand, however, beginning to flip through the magazine as she took as seat. “Have you talked to Aegis since then about the story? What did they think about it?”

It was Chara who answered, their expression comically mature given that they had a hot-chocolate moustache adorning their upper lip. “Mmn. We did, and they honestly didn’t seem to have much of an opinion. They complimented our writing, but… Well. It was easy to tell that Undyne thought it was cool. They just seemed..”

They looked over at Frisk. “Shy, I guess. Which is honestly kind of weird, considering what they used to do.”

Now  _ that  _ had Gaster’s interest. He looked up from the magazine, focusing directly on Chara. “What they used to do?”

Frisk was the one who answered the question, being surprisingly verbose about it. “Yeah. It was how I got the idea. We went to the same school, though they were both three years ahead of me. Undyne a-- I mean,” they glanced at Chara. “...Atrytone and Aegis, they were like… school superheroes, I guess. Everyone knew about them.”

Gaster’s brow went up, and it took him a moment to realize Fuku had poured him some tea. He thanked her politely before asking for some clarification. “Superheroes?”

“Mhm.” They looked down into their coffee, squinting a bit at the black liquid. “They called themselves ‘Justice Fighters Red and Blue’. If you were having a hard time, you just went to Red and Blue, and they’d sort your problem out. They were like… bully-busters. If your stuff was stolen, they’d get it back, they’d walk you home from school if you needed it, they’d intervene in fights and make other kids feel… safe.”

Frisk shrugged. “It was neat. They kinda… helped me out, once, so I really admired them both. I was kind of surprised to hear that they’d stopped doing it in high school, but I thought that maybe - since they used to be pretty theatrical in the past - they’d be okay with us writing a story about them. Turns out, they were.”

“Red and Blue… Do you have any idea why they stopped being ‘bully-busters?’”

Frisk simply shook their head, and it was then Fuku’s turn to comment.

“I imagine they wanted to focus on their studies… or perhaps it was just a game they played when they were children. Though, as far as I know, Undyne doesn’t tolerate bullying even now. I’ve heard about her stepping up for people who aren’t being treated very well.”

“And Aegis?” Gaster pressed. “Do they do the same?”

Fuku thought this over. “No… honestly, before Chara and Frisk wrote their story, I mainly heard about them in the context of basketball. Otherwise, they seem to keep to themselves.”

“Were Red and Blue the only Justice Fighters?” The words seemed ridiculous to say, but he wasn’t going to shy away from asking questions. The more he learned, the more it just seemed…  _ weird.  _ Why would someone who used to pose as a  _ superhero  _ be so…

Well…

_ Plain _ now? Why would someone like that ever  _ think  _ of hiding something they liked? A vague answer like Fuku’s didn’t cut it for him.

Undyne hadn’t changed. Why had you?

“...I dunno,” Chara blinked, turning the question over to Frisk. “Honestly, I only know the story from them. Asriel and I went to a different school.”

Apparently, their willingness to talk had dwindled, because their answer was fairly short and terse. “There was a Yellow.”

“Was it another classmate of theirs?”

“No. Older.”

This was a bit frustrating, but Gaster had the feeling that if he became annoyed, he’d be thrown out of the room. “Were they a highschooler? How did they fit in? Where are they now?”

“She. Yellow…” A longer pause. Chara and Asriel looked profoundly curious; apparently this was new information to them. “She’s gone, now.”

That word hung over the room.  _ Gone. _ Gaster hesitated, filling the silence with a sip of tea. Next to him, Alphys fidgeted anxiously. “Gone in… what sense?”

A shrug. A reservation had clouded Frisk’s expression, and Gaster knew he wasn’t getting any more from this avenue of questioning, as frustrating as that knowledge was. “I see…”

He took another drink of tea, and then set the mug down on the table. “Well, then, let’s take a look at this story, shall we? Here.” He spread out the magazine on the table before himself and Alphys, indicating with a tilt of his head that she should read as well. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

The mood in the room grew more cheerful after that - Gaster had to admit, the story was well-written, and Alphys actually seemed pretty excited about Asriel’s brightly colored, obviously anime-inspired art. One thing lead to another, and the younger monster ended up showing the two visitors his sketchbook, and he and Alphys spent some time talking about their favorite cartoons.

Asriel even managed to secure a promise that Alphys would show him her own sketchbook, something which - later - filled her with insurmountable dread.

Other than that, the visit wasn’t particularly informative. The story was a strange, fantasy retelling of the basketball team’s exploits, where both you and Undyne were knights fighting to steal a dragon’s egg from a band of monsters and return it to your kingdom. There was a fun sort of humor to it, a lighthearted style of narration that Chara seemed to embrace with pride. The praise boosted everyone’s ego’s in the room, and Fuku seemed a bit happier that, for a little while, it wasn’t just her corralling the other three.

Gaster and Alphys left, magazine in hand with a few answers and many more questions, and peace returned to the Literature Club once more… though there was an odd sort of gloominess to it as Frisk stared into their cooling coffee.

It was Asriel who commented first, though the third point of the Terrible Trio had certainly noticed it too. “Frisk - is everything okay? You haven’t been saying much…”

Fuku picked up all of the cups, taking them to the small tupperware container they used to take dishes to the bathroom to wash. “If you’re not feeling well, you can always go home early… Or take a little nap. There’s a couch in the teacher’s break room.”

They shook their head, tapping a finger against the rim of their mug. It had a cute little cartoon heart painted on its pretty pink surface, and it was their favorite. “No. Just thinking.”

“...Is it about the stuff we talked about?” Chara leaned against the table next to them, their hair falling across their face as they looked down at their friend. “You looked… troubled.”

“Little bit.” Tap, tap. They didn’t say anything more. Chara and Asriel exchanged a look.

“You can tell us,” he prompted, joining Frisk by the table. “Whatever it is, we won’t tell.”

There was one of those struggling pauses from the darker skinned child, and Fuku finished up what she was doing to sit across from them. She hadn’t known them for too long, but she was fond of the little posse of freshman who’d come to brighten up the Literature Club’s room. Their enthusiasm for creating…

...It made her want to try a little harder. “We’ll listen. It’s no trouble.”

“It’s just…” They began, looking down at their hands. “It’s something he shouldn’t ask too many questions about.”

Fuku blinked. “Gaster, you mean?”

Frisk nodded. “I don’t know everything, but… It’s not really a happy story. I hope I didn’t make him too curious…”

Asriel grinned broadly, patting Frisk on the back. “Aw, c’mon, don’t worry about it. Gaster sounds like the kind of guy who gets what he wants, y’know? If it wasn’t you, it’d be someone else. And - if he pushes too far…”

He formed one paw into a fist, striking his other palm with it. “Atrytone will punch him out!”

Frisk sighed deeply, picking up their pen once more. It was a hollow, lonely sound, and their quiet admission slipped out with it. “I’m actually really afraid that might happen…”

The others weren’t entirely certain what to say to that, and Chara had a particularly contemplative look on their face by the time the day was through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah!!! It's been awhile!!! I have been super sick and swamped with schoolwork~~ Man... what's even been going on in my life? I know Japanese a bit better than my last update... I can kind of have basic conversations, haha~ And write it a little bit... Oh!! I've been playing mystic messenger!!! I've gone through Jaehee and Yoosung's route, and I'm doing 707 now... Does anyone like playing otome games? What're your favorites? I'm a big fan of Cheritz, and Nameless has my top spot, but I've played a bunch...
> 
> What archetypes do you tend to like? Mine is usually the "smart guy", like the doctor or something. ...In this, my obsession with Gaster is.... .. .very.... .. . true to form.....


End file.
